


Brand

by blotsandcreases



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pre-Canon, F/M, Gen, Pre-Canon, i am an ellyn reyne fan though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-13
Updated: 2016-11-13
Packaged: 2018-08-30 18:27:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8544358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blotsandcreases/pseuds/blotsandcreases
Summary: His retreating back sparked the fury in Jeyne. “Yes, go to your peace, my lord!” she shouted after him. Another ache forked through her, so painful that her thighs trembled and she had to blink tears from her eyes. Tytos opened her doors to slip out. “All I ask is for you to not let House Lannister drown!” Jeyne and Tytos argue shortly after Tygett's birth.





	

 

Jeyne had given birth only two days ago, and she was already in an unpleasant mood.

 

“I have called and called for you,” Jeyne told her husband. “They told me you were engaged elsewhere.”

 

Tytos advanced to Jeyne’s bed, a troubled crease between his golden brows and a conciliatory look in his green eyes. He was a very tall man, like all the Lannisters, but even as he hovered and cast a shadow over the brocade of her blankets Jeyne did not flinch away. She had known him since he had been a boy of five and ten, and she a woman grown of seven and ten.

 

He had never stopped being that shy and gentle boy to her. Most times Jeyne loved him for it. Now was not one of those times.

 

“I was,” Tytos said. “I rushed to you as soon as I could.” He crouched down by the bed, slowly reaching for her hand, asking for permission. Jeyne did not move her hand away. “I have visited our son. Tygett.” A soft smile was dripping on his face. Soon enough it would be a beam, bright as gold. It was also one of the things Jeyne loved about him. “He looks healthy.”

 

Still she had to know. It had been a difficult birth. Jeyne had screamed and ripped a cloth rope and knocked over a copper jug. She’d thought of House Marbrand’s blazing tree, and renewed her resolve to be relentless as forest fires. 

 

Jeyne thought of it now, Marbrand’s orange and smoke in this chamber licked by Lannister gold and crimson, and asked, “What were you engaged with?”

 

A small tremor passed through Tytos’ hand. “That – ah. Well.”

 

Jeyne turned her hand palm up so that she could grip his. “Tell me.”

 

Tytos turned his face away. She could see the gulp of his swallow, tight against the ruby sewn on his collar. “Tytos, my heart,” Jeyne tried again, gently squeezing his hand, “tell me.”

 

Tytos licked his lips. “I was closing a loan with Lord Reyne. He said it’s urgent.”

 

Jeyne ripped her hand away. She could feel an anger simmering in her. “A vassal does not dictate urgency to his liege.”

 

“That’s not quite true,” said Tytos. “If the Ironborn descended on Fair Isle that’s an urgent matter.”

 

“Is the bold Lord Reyne coming to the aid of Fair Isle's current predicament?” Jeyne snapped. “Are the Ironborn truly on our doorstep at this moment?”

 

“No.” Tytos was fully frowning now. “Lord Reyne will be departing Castamere on the morrow. He will not be back for some time.”

 

“I told you to keep an account of the loans.” Jeyne sat up against her pillows, even as aches throbbed deep in her cunt and womb. Locks of her hair tumbled free from her loose braid. “I suggested that you refuse another loan if the previous one is yet unpaid.”

 

“Lord Reyne has assured me,” Tytos said. “It will be paid in short of a year. They only need it for their cavalry.”

 

“Why can’t Castamere take care of its own cavalry?” Jeyne demanded. “And eventually we will find out that some of that gold will end up as Myrish tapestries in Tarbeck Hall!”

 

Tytos let out a gusty sigh. “Is this still about Lady Tarbeck?”

 

Jeyne felt her lip curl. She did not like thinking about that woman. But even as the late Lord Lannister had sent Lady Ellyn Reyne away from the Rock to marry Lord Tarbeck, that woman still hounded Jeyne. Lady Tarbeck with her red-gold curls and sharp scarlet smiles had nearly become the Lady of Casterly Rock. But Tytos’ elder brothers had died, so Jeyne was now the rightful Lady of Casterly Rock. She resolved to be relentless in her grip, relentless as the claws of forest fires.

 

She had to be, for Lady Tarbeck was strong-willed and frighteningly efficient as she was ambitious. After Tytos’ elder twin brothers had died, one after the other, the both of them betrothed to Lady Tarbeck one after the other, Lady Tarbeck had tried to sink her teeth on Tytos.

 

Jeyne still remembered that particular morning, years before her eldest Tywin was born. She had just washed her face and hands in an ivory ewer, and her cousin Lady Darlessa had been brushing Jeyne’s hair when Tytos burst in her chambers and told Jeyne’s ladies to leave the two of them alone.

 

“What is it?” Jeyne had asked. Tytos’ agitated pacing had greatly worried her. “Has Lord Lannister been taken ill?”

 

There had been black shadows under Tytos’ eyes. He had been dressed only with a tunic above his smallclothes. Simply. Haphazardly. The garnet brooch Jeyne had given him on his just-passed nineteenth nameday had looked feverishly pinned on the front of his tunic.

 

“Jeyne, my heart’s delight,” he had begun. “I must needs confess a – a terrible thing.”

 

Jeyne remembered how a chill had crawled down from her spine to the tips of her fingers. Somehow she had known that the then Lady Ellyn had had something to do with it. How Lady Ellyn’s influence had cloaked the court of the Rock, she who had been the Lady of Casterly Rock in all but name.

 

“A terrible thing,” Tytos had continued. A sheen of sweat had gleamed on his forehead. His lips had been ghost-white. “A man’s weakness. Truly terrible. A dishonour on you, above all.” He had stopped pacing to gaze at her as she had stood there, frozen. “Lady Ellyn –”

 

Jeyne had gripped her brush so hard. Of course.

 

“She – she came to my bed.” Tytos’ gaze had been pleading. “Last night. I let her. I let her, and let her, and let her. I was so drunk on her. She was whispering to my ear – of – of things we will do. She didn’t snuff out the candles. I let her, until she was pressing me against the sheets. Her thighs were like steel. She whispered more things. She told me – she told me she’d teach me a lot. She told me she’d teach me to like being tied down and – and stepped on by her heeled Myrish boots.”

 

It had been one of Jeyne’s most agonising moments. Her grip on her brush had been so tight that her hand had started to numb.

 

“And,” Tytos had continued, “and I couldn’t perform. My blood was hot but I couldn’t do it. She’s far older, and more artful. I felt but a boy.” Tytos had looked at Jeyne with beseeching eyes. “I fled. I had to tell you. I had to beg forgiveness.”

 

Jeyne had flung her brush across the room, but not aimed at her husband. It had been made of ash wood, embossed with silver. Its impact knocked the jug and ewer to the rushes and shattered them.

 

She had forgiven her Tytos, but it had always been about Lady Ellyn. Even now, long after Jeyne had marched to the late lord father of Tytos to report what had happened between Lady Ellyn and Tytos. Even now, long after Lady Ellyn had been commanded to marry Lord Walderan Tarbeck.

 

Their grasping hands still dug, and dug, and dug. Casterly Rock would be in danger of being hollowed if this continued.

 

“Reyne and Tarbeck are taking advantage of your good heart,” Jeyne told Tytos now. “I wish you would consider my suggestion.”

 

“This time Lord Reyne has assured me,” Tytos insisted. “It’s not wise to make quarrels with other Houses out of nothing.”

 

“It is _not_ making quarrel.” The brocade and silk was crushed in Jeyne’s fists. She tried not to tense for it hurt her newly-laboured body, but the thought of that woman siphoning off wealth she had no right to incensed Jeyne. That wealth rightfully belonged to Jeyne’s children. “It is _not_ making quarrel for a liege to draw a _firm_ line for his vassals.”

 

“I cannot risk bad blood amongst us,” said Tytos. He leaned against her bed, trying to convince her, the candlelight gliding gold on his hair. “Bad blood festers. A small thing can lead to troublesome wars. Look at the Blackfyres.”

 

Jeyne could feel her voice rising. “This is an entirely different matter. Tytos. This is not within House Lannister itself. It involves others. A firm line drawn, that’s all it will take. You are the Lord Paramount of the Westerlands. Do you know what they call you? The Toothless Lion. My husband, the Toothless Lion.”

 

Tytos rose abruptly. “I do not care what names they call me. I care for peace. Peace breeds prosperity.”

 

“Your peace will bleed us to poverty sooner than later,” Jeyne snapped.

 

“Must you think the worst of everyone, my lady?” Tytos exclaimed.

 

“I think with caution!” Jeyne’s voice had grown louder, the ache in her lower belly crueller. “Must you dismiss your lady wife’s counsel, my lord? Is the counsel unsound? Or do you think my counsel so little of consequence, my voice not worth heeding?”

 

“This argument cannot be healthy for your recovery,” Tytos said, heavily. “I must withdraw.”

 

His retreating back sparked the fury in Jeyne. “Yes, go to your peace, my lord!” she shouted after him. Another ache forked through her, so painful that her thighs trembled and she had to blink tears from her eyes. Tytos opened her doors to slip out. “All I ask is for you to not let House Lannister drown!”

 

Jeyne gasped out a pained sob as the doors shut. She refrained from clutching at her belly. She should ring the bell for Lady Darlessa, or even little Lynora Hill, Tytos’ bastard niece who tried her earnest best to be useful.

 

Her hands were trembling. She was reaching for her cup of water when one of the doors clicked softly open and shut.

 

Through her pained grimace, Jeyne saw Tywin.

 

Her Tywin, her eldest born.

 

Tear drops stained her brocade. Jeyne quickly wiped them away even as she let out a few more sobs of pain and anger and frustration.

 

“Tywin, my love,” she said, her voice steady, “hand me my cup, if you would.”

 

Tywin approached her. He was such a solemn child, too solemn for his eight years. He poured boiled water from the crystal jug to her gold-rimmed cup, all the while glancing at her with his troubled green eyes.

 

After Jeyne had sipped all the cup’s water, Tywin said, “I heard shouting. I was hiding outside.”

 

Jeyne sighed. “Come closer. Here.”

 

Tywin climbed in beside Jeyne. He might be a solemn child but he always sat with Jeyne. She put her arm around his small shoulders now, brushing his hair from his forehead. He had Tytos’ golden curls and green eyes and high forehead, but Jeyne recognised her nose and the set of her mouth in Tywin.

 

“Your lord father and I had a disagreement,” she said. Jeyne did not believe in shielding the harsh realities of the world. Tywin as the heir should learn. “It concerns the loans from House Lannister, mainly by Houses Reyne and Tarbeck.”

 

Tywin blinked solemnly. “Mother, you were crying.”

 

“It’s nothing. I did not mean to cry.” Jeyne felt Tywin clutching at the hem of her light dress. She could feel the anger slowly melt from her tense muscles. “It was from the pain of childbirth. I am barely recovered, and I was angry.”

 

“Is it because we will drown? Is that why you’re angry, Mother?” Then he scowled, and in his cold anger Jeyne saw herself as well. “Did someone hurt you, Mother? I won’t let you be hurt. I won’t!”

 

By the Seven, he had heard that. No matter. It was better he understood now. Tytos was a third son, he had never been prepared to be Lord of the Rock. “It’s only a manner of speaking. If your father is not careful our House might drown due to others’ grasping and follies.”

 

Tywin nodded after a moment. He still had the hem of Jeyne’s dress in his grasp. She drew him closer, hugging him, the top of his head tucked perfectly under her chin. Tywin’s other hand twirled a curious finger with Jeyne’s chestnut brown locks.

 

She let quiet envelope them for several heartbeats, let her son lean against her heart as he played with her loose braid. Then, gently but firmly, Jeyne took him by the shoulder and peered down at his face.

 

“Let me rest tonight,” she told Tywin. “Tomorrow after your arms training, come to me so that I can fully explain why your father and I argued. Shortly speaking it is about how much debt House Lannister should let go unpaid. You remember how I said Houses Reyne and Tarbeck owe us?” At his nod Jeyne continued, “But for now, I want you to remember something.”

 

“I will, Mother,” said Tywin. “I am good at remembering.”

 

“That’s good, then.” Jeyne made him feel the firmness of her hand on his shoulder. “Grasping hands will dig, and dig, and dig. You fight them with a hammer to the fingers, and a balm for the bandages. A maimed hand can have its uses.”

 

_fin_

**Author's Note:**

> When not scrambling for coursework deadlines or daydreaming about fics I'm short on time to write, I'm over at blotsandcreases.tumblr.com sighing happily at all the great things. :)


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